


` The Boys of Wicker Ave.

by doyoungified



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Coming of Age, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), M/M, Mystery, Romance, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9804716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doyoungified/pseuds/doyoungified
Summary: When their ring leader goes missing, a group of boys set out to take the case into their own hands; little do they know their town is harboring a secret bigger than all of them combined. Their friendship is put to the test, lines are blurred, and they realize that once milk is spoiled, it's absolutely irreversible.





	1. ` PREAMBLE.

The summer of 1987 was supposed to lay out like any other: trips to the lake, random excursions and hanging out under the big oak tree next to the dingy building they called a library. It was supposed to be typical, but for the boys of Wicker Ave, it was anything but. With July coming to a close, they had less than a month left before having to retreat back into desks and obey bells and timetables. They wanted to make the best out of the days they had remaining, they wanted to make memories to last a lifetime, but none of them would have expected what the next eight weeks had in store for them.

Some would call it fate that they all had gathered together, and others? Pure coincidence. Either way, the bond they had was strong, dating back since Doyoung was in diapers. He had brought them all together, he was the glue keeping everyone in place. But just as quickly as he connected them, it was easy enough to rip them apart at any given time.


	2. ` ONE.

**Chapter One:**  

 _Might Be A Sinner and Might Be A Saint_  

 

Night breaks into the summer sky late enough in the day to give the boys of Wicker Avenue an excuse to miss dinner. They're out, all seven of them, nine if you count their two unwilling chaperones. It's Yuta and his tour guides antics that bring the group on the rocky, muddy path toward the cemetery but it's Jaehyun that waves them over to a grassy spot right in the middle of all the action. 

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Comes a small voice, belonging to the youngest. Jisung does his best to trudge through the pathway without tripping over his too-long flare jeans. "It's getting dark and my mom's making spaghett—" 

"No offense," Donghyuck says irritably, "But your mom's spaghetti tastes like Chef Boyardee from a can. Come on. We're falling behind." 

Once the boy runs up to the front to tangle limbs with Jeno and Renjun, Jisung turns to Mark, his older brother, with a slight frown. "Is it true?" 

"...I dig it," Mark replies after hesitating. When he notices that the sadness doesn't leave the younger's face he lets out a laugh, swinging a loose arm over the boy's shoulders. "Hey. People buy that stuff all the time. Our mom could be making families all over the Grove happy." 

"Would you ladies can it back there?" Yuta says as he shines a flashlight on them from his spot on the grass. 

Mark puts his hands up, as if surrendering, before stepping behind Jisung to push him along. 

"It's the pants," Donghyuck says. "It's like his mom bought all his clothes in the 70's and kept them in the basement until he could fit them." 

"Hey," Mark bites. "My mom thinks he's cute in them." 

"They're weighing him down. He's already walking on two sticks." 

"Har har," Mark retaliates dryly. "When will you learn to pick on someone your own size?" 

"Like you?" Donghyuck's grin is too big for his face. 

With the rest of the crew seated in a circle it was up to Chenle to position the Ouija board just right. Jaemin takes the puck out of his back pocket and tosses it onto the flimsy cardboard, to which Renjun reacts. 

"You'll mess up the chi," Renjun chides. 

"What?" 

"The chi. You'll make the spirits angry if you're that rough. You gotta coax them out," he clarifies. "Y'know. Be gentle?" 

"We don't have time to wine and dine this ghost," Jaehyun yawns out. "I've got basketball in the morning." 

"You aren't the only one. I have to be up at five to deliver milk to your ass," Yuta adds. 

Mark instantly covers Jisung's ears and Jeno laughs at the foul language.  

"Who are we even going to talk to?" Jaemin pipes up.  

"How about Old Lady Yoon?" Yuta suggests. 

"First of all, she's still alive. Secondly, you're an ass," Jaehyun jokes. "Okay, but really. Who?" 

"Fine," Yuta says. "Yoon Sanha, then." 

Jaehyun quirks a brow and the rest of the kids can't decipher the situation. The name is nearly irrelevant, and all too heavy at the same time.  

The question that everyone had been asking in their minds finally came to the surface when Chenle opened his mouth, "Who's Sanha?" 

"How old are you, Chenle?" Jaehyun asks. 

"Thirteen." 

"He was only four when it happened," Yuta concludes. "Mark do you remember? You were — what? — six?" 

"Tell us," Donghyuck begs, wrapping his arms around Yuta's neck. "We wanna know." 

Yuta lips fall into a deep smirk at the sudden affection. His voice is airy, as if he's uninterested in the subject, "I don't know. What do you think, Jaehyun? Should we tell them?" 

By this point Chenle and Jisung had grabbed both of the teen's hands, pulling him side to side, as if manhandling him would make him spill all the details of the tragic disappearance. Mid-shake, Jaehyun sends a look over to which Yuta receives with a nod. 

"Nine years ago..." 

 

 

Doyoung can't hold in his laughter when Taeyong presses him into the trunk of the old oak tree. Lips are on his neck faster than he can feel them. He breathes out shakily when hands glide up his sides. The air around him smells like laundry and sweet musk with a hint of gasoline from Taeyong's family auto shop. It smells like home. 

His bottom lip is sulking when Taeyong takes it between his own. It's hot and Doyoung feels his head grow thick, threading his fingers through silky locks. He cups Taeyong's cheeks when he separates and leans in to plant a firm kiss on the teen's forehead. 

There's a dull buzz on his lips when he pulls away. He recognizes the want in the shorter's eyes and he almost feels regretful. He brushes the fringe up and out of Taeyong's view when he pushes his palm against his head. It's warm, soothing. It makes Taeyong feel whole. 

"We're late," Doyoung whispers. 

"We haven't even started," Taeyong argues lethargically. 

Doyoung gives him a pointed look. He moves away from the tree so he isn't trapped in the cage of Taeyong's arms any longer.  

There's a sigh, weary, "How long are you gonna keep this a secret, huh?" 

And he knew it would come up. It was like clockwork. Ever since two years ago when they first kissed, this conversation was a running issue. It was like an irregular cycle that seemed to never end. 

Doyoung narrows his eyes at the man as he crosses his limbs over his torso. "Are we really going to start this here? Right now? In the dark?" 

"Isn't this how you want things? In the dark where no one can see us? You aren't used to it?" Taeyong interrogates. 

His words pierce into Doyoung like daggers. If he truly feels the pain he doesn't show it, keeping a cool expression fixed onto his face. He holds out his hand then, waggling it about impatiently. 

"Are you done?" When Taeyong doesn't respond he stomps over and grabs the teen's wrist. "Let's go home." 

"You're so unfair," Taeyong says under his breath. The tone in his voice holds no more vice, but it's like a deflated balloon. 

Doyoung finds that he can still pull the boy with little resistance so he figures he can't be too upset at him for picking a fight. When the younger straddles the seat of his bike he can see Taeyong deep in thought. 

It was times like these where Doyoung wished he could read minds. "Ready?" His voice lifts towards the end of the word in a soft command. 

It's enough to snap Taeyong out of his haze and get on his own two wheels, one foot already thrusting against the pedal. "Race you back. Loser owes a wish!" 

And he speeds by without waiting for an answer. Doyoung follows suit but not without a stream of complaints, "You blockhead! You didn't even say start! You're such a little cheate—" 

 _Snap!_  

Despite the swiftness of his ride, Doyoung could still pick up the loud crunch of a branch falling to the left of him where the forest lie. It slows him down for just a moment, a muted curiosity seeping into his mind, before he gains momentum again in order to catch up to Taeyong whose image was quickly fading away. 

Taeyong purposely circles his bike around to buy Doyoung some time. The younger pedals faster to close the distance all while reaching his hand into the basket secured onto the front of his steering wheel. He fumbles to turn the radio on but he thanks the heavens that the song it lands on is his absolute favorite. 

The voices of the band Simple Minds blare through the crackly speaker. The sound isn't the best but for 1987 it was pretty damn great. 

"Not that again," Taeyong teases. He forgets all about the race and settles for being alongside the younger teen. "It's so old." 

"It's only two years old," comes the rebuttal. Before Taeyong can go any further Doyoung sings, " _Don't you forget about me_. _Don't_ , _don't_ , _don't_ , _don't_!" 

Taeyong can't compete with how smooth and sweet Doyoung sounds. But that doesn't mean he can't appreciate the way his huskier voice molds with the younger's, " _Don't you forget about me_." 

And the boy with the doe eyes shoots him a smile even stars would envy. It's one Taeyong, in his eighteen years of living, hopes he will never forget. 

 

 

"And then what?" Donghyuck badgers. 

"—who took Sanha?" Jaemin asked with eyes as round as twenty-five cent gumballs. 

"Would you look here," Yuta interjects. He glances just briefly at his watch. "It's almost curfew." 

"Aw," comes a collective whine. 

"Can we finish tomorrow?" Chenle pleads. 

"Can we? Can we?" Jisung tops. 

"Some other time," Jaehyun chuckles. He cleans up the abandoned Ouija board and pockets the triangle device into Renjun's jeans. "We better get going." 

The younger kids are all reluctant, dragging their feet along the ground. It could also be from the fact that they spent all day together but everyone was exhausted. 

Mark leads the way and assigns the buddy system as they all walk in pairs behind him. Jaehyun and Yuta are at the very back keeping some distance.  

"Are we going to tell them that Sanha was never found?" Jaehyun mutters between two unmoving lips. 

Yuta's shoulders are squared when he bumps them into Jaehyun's. "And ruin the mystery? Hell no." 

"You're right." 

The two boys weren't the closest of the bunch but it wasn't surprising given the fact that their friend group was much larger than any other. There were so many others, so many stories and backgrounds, so many different personalities that made up their melting pot. 

There was Johnny and Hansol, Jaehyun's older cousins. They made up what others lacked: pure build and structure. They were quite the opposite: Hansol was silent but observant while Johnny was loud and his presence was almost domineering.  

The eighteen year olds didn't stop there. Yuta and Taeil, another pair of opposites, came into play from Grove high school's honorable soccer and broadcast club. They were all pulled into the group once Taeyong set his eyes on them.  

Taeyong and Doyoung came as a duo despite being in different grades. Jaehyun distinctly remembers the way Doyoung would skip out on him in middle school just to greet the older male at the school gates. Even now, at seventeen, the loyalty runs strong. 

It wasn't long before Jaehyun took the hint. His best friend was someone else's best friend. It was only time before Jaehyun found his own smaller group to recruit: Ten and Kun. 

They were bright and right on the seventeen year old's level. Ten often schemed up various pranks to which Jaehyun encourages, leaving Kun to clean up the mess. The trio were odd, but like the entire group when together, they mixed together seamlessly. 

Jaehyun was just blessed that his father built him a treehouse big enough to wrangle all the boys inside during their secret meetings. 

 

 

Doyoung and Taeyong's friendship was solid but their initial meeting had a lot to do with the fact that their were neighbors. The space between their two houses was nonexistent, just a sliver of grass to part the way. That meant that their windows, by fate or by coincidence, lined up perfectly. It was to be expected of cookie cutter homes that they'd be of exactly the same layout, sometimes flipped depending on the houses in the cul-de-sac.  

Although it would have been seen as a pain for regular neighbors to be so close, the two reveled in the fact.  

The lights in their bedrooms turned on almost instantly. A warm yellow glow filled each of their rooms, not bright enough to burn their eyes. Unsurprisingly, due to Taeyong's competitive nature and the fact that he felt miffed during their one and only hangout of the week, he won the race in order to obtain his very own wish courtesy of Doyoung's consent. 

The walkie-talkie feels heavy in his hand when Doyoung stares straight at him, as if coaxing him into releasing all his hidden desires. 

"Give me something to remember," Taeyong says into the device with confidence. 

They're comfortable. Years upon years of being friends and then lovers gave them enough time to know the ins and outs of their relationship. Fooling around was no exception, but Taeyong didn't think Doyoung would actually give into his request. 

Doyoung shimmies out of his jeans first, making a show out of tossing them onto his bed. He keeps the eye contact and Taeyong's entire throat goes dry, his knuckles going white as he unknowingly grips the walkie talkie too tightly in his hand. 

The younger was always a tease and it showed in the way he walked away from the window, long legs inching along. His hips swing to a rhythm Taeyong can't pinpoint and he starts to wonder if the boy is playing music. When Doyoung lifts his arms up, his tall form swaying, Taeyong gets a clear view of stark white briefs and he holds back a laugh. 

"Nice undies, kid," Taeyong taunts. 

Doyoung doubles over to let out what seems as his own laugh before making his way back to the window to take a seat at his desk. He shoves a hand down the neck of his shirt to tangle a finger around a thin silver chain, letting the dog tag necklace hang out. Taeyong feels his matching one hit his chest when he leans forward, the article trapped between his skin and shirt. 

"I think that's enough. Knowing you, it'll keep you up all night," Doyoung responds with his chin cradled in his free hand. 

There's a light smile and Taeyong can see that the younger is getting drowsy from the softness in his voice, "Pervert." 

It's silent, then. They look at one another, taking in every little detail. Taeyong engraves sharp feline eyes in his mental file cabinet, stuffing rosebud lips and full cheeks along with it. He hopes and wishes upon every little star in the sky that he'll never forget the way Doyoung's eyes feel on his skin: wrapped in an overwhelming fondness and tied and bound with care. 

He doesn't want to end their precious moment but his thumb finds the button of the walkie before he can stop it. "Get some rest, will ya." 

"I'll see you tomorrow, old man," Doyoung says in admittance to his bed calling for him.  

He wants to leave but it feels his every fiber in his body is glueing him to the chair. He sees Doyoung clearing up his desk and his thumb is at it again. "Doyoung?" 

Instead of speaking into the device, Doyoung's head lifts up in question. His small, sweet head tilts to the side when Taeyong doesn't respond and the older male feels his heart dragging behind him like a ball and chain. 

He shakes his head and there's a smile. The lights turn off. His neighbor's bedroom goes black, like the ending of a scene for a play. 

 _I love you_ , he wanted so dearly to say. _I have_ , _and always will_ ,  _love you_. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again my angels!!! welcome to my new adventure in the form of 80's stranger things au!!! i've been planning this since around july '16 so it's been a long time coming hahahahahah. wasn't too sure about how to start this fic off so i hope this is ok :") i feel a little rusty when it comes to beginning fics but i assure you a lot of drama and mystery is to come. i really want to hear your thoughts so please tell me what you think so far!!!
> 
> many kisses,  
> a.p.


	3. ` TWO.

  

 **Chapter Two:**   

 _And You Could Call This the Funeral_   

  

"Stop," Taeyong warns. His voice is low but it's loud enough to hear even through the breeze. "Doyoung."  

The taller boy doesn't halt and instead he uses the command to sink his Converse into the muddy ground faster, quicker. He shows no mercy in the way he's bolting out of the forest.  

He isn't the athletic type but he's grown to understand cues on when to chase Doyoung down, and he does so easily.  

Doyoung feels like sand slipping between the spaces in his fingers. As much as he wants to hold onto the boy, as much as he wants to keep the boy with the crushing smile by his side, he keeps losing bits and pieces of him.  

When the boy's feet reach actual pavement, rough fingers coil around Doyoung's wrist to stop him from making an escape. Taeyong tugs with just enough pressure to set his center of gravity off.  

"Will you stop?" He asks.  

Defiance is written all over Doyoung's face. "Friends don't fight every day."  

Taeyong has to swallow a laugh like a bitter pill. It thumps down the notches of his spine and settles in his stomach like a boulder.  _Friends_ , right.  

"We," Taeyong starts out. He's unraveling like a ball of yarn being kicked around. He points between the two of their chests as a wry smile works it's way onto his lips. "We... we aren't friends. We haven't been  _just_  friends for two years now, Doyoung."  

"You always want to fight with me," Doyoung pivots. He's avoiding the real issue at hand and Taeyong is getting sick of it. "Every time we hang out you just want to argue."  

"It's because you're so—"  

"So it's my fault?"  

Taeyong looks up at the sky in defeat. He doesn't let go of Doyoung, but he also doesn't let his head drop for the fear of his tears falling.   

"What's so hard about telling the guys we're together?" He sounds broken, because he is, and Doyoung can't help but look away.  

It's barely a whisper, "I'm not out, Taeyong. You know that."  

"Neither am I," Taeyong says each word with weight. They push him down into the road. "But I would be for you. That's the difference between you and me." 

"If you loved me you would understand." 

Taeyong's mouth flies open faster than he can string together words. "It's because I love you that I want to share it with the world. I want everyone to know how great I feel that I'm yours, and that you're mine." 

"Our relationship is between the two of us: you and me. Not with anyone else. Their approval means nothing," Doyoung says slowly, as if speaking to a child.  

Doyoung moves closer, hands stretching out upon instinct to close the space between them. He doesn't want to fight. He wants nothing more than to kiss and make up and go the hell home. The response he receives isn't something he planned on getting. Doyoung's eyebrows knit together in confusion when Taeyong puts two hands up, as if to say "stay away". 

Doyoung does this all the time. It's almost a fool-proof plan to get Taeyong to calm down and forget whatever the issue is with physical contact. It was Doyoung's way of hypnotizing him into thinking everything was fine and dandy, and he wasn't about to fall into the trap again without getting some solidity.  

"You think their approval means shit but you're scared to tell them?" Taeyong rephrases, as if trying to understand. His eyes are squinted now, looking the most perplexed out of both of them. "Is that what you're saying?" 

"We're happy now, like this. Why do you want to change it?" Doyoung says gently. "People don't have to know. The guys don't need to know we're together for us to be happy." 

"I'm tired of having to sneak around just to be _us_. Not the us they think we are, but us, truly _us_ ," Taeyong's voice is so raw it sounds like he had rocks for lunch. 

From his spot in front of the diner, Sizzle!, he can see the red neon sign in the reflection of Doyoung's eyes. The male looks so small, so vulnerable when he's bathed in a blinking red light. It beams on and off on pale skin, setting all of the younger's features ablaze.  

It only takes a second but the moment of silence feels like an eternity to the older male. "If you're so tired then why don't you just leave?" 

"Because!" Taeyong yells. His patience is thin, nearly bursting like a water balloon being pricked by a needle. "Because I love you. I love you and your crazy ass so much that I'd follow you to the end of this earth! Because you could tell me that drinking chlorine is safe and I'd believe you, because I'd jump off a bridge if you asked me to! Because, Doyoung!" 

Doyoung feels his nostrils flare. They are on fire. Tears prick at his eyes when he pushes Taeyong off of him, lips pursed tightly to keep his jaw from wobbling. 

"Find someone else," Doyoung starts. "Someone who can make you happy." 

"What is this? 'It's not you, it's me'?" Taeyong scoffs so loud that it rattles a lone tear from the corner of his eye. "I appreciate the advice but it's too late for that, Barbie." 

Doyoung doesn't say anything in rebuttal to the hostile tone, but he does step back because the other is reaching into his pocket and for a second, he doesn't know what Taeyong is capable of. 

And it's true. Had he known Taeyong would be the one with the ability to break his heart into a million pieces, maybe he would have done something right. 

Maybe. 

The man isn't shaking with fury any longer. It's as if his body and mind have come to a certain resolution in less than a minute. Hands fish out a blood velvet box. Doyoung's breath stills. 

It creaks when it opens, Taeyong being so rough with it that Doyoung thinks the cover with fly off the hinges any moment now. Inside lies a ring, and Doyoung regrets thinking any less of the man. 

Doyoung can see the way Taeyong swallows, the way his Adam's apple bobs. More tears stream freely when the older teen smiles, plucking the silver piece out of the box. He stares it down, only lifting his gaze to match eyes with the deer caught in headlights. 

"Well, fuck me, right?" Taeyong forces out. 

And when the ring goes flying into the dark abyss of trees and shrubs, Doyoung knows things between them have been cut down the middle. He doesn't want to believe it so he keeps staring into the deep distance.  

"You can keep your perfect little life," Taeyong says. He's smiling but Doyoung knows better than to smile back. "But count me out." 

Aside from a scoff, Doyoung remains motionless when Taeyong walks past him to get on his bike. Doyoung doesn't expect the pain to hit him like an oncoming truck when Taeyong leaves. His feet won't move, and his eyes can't stop staring in the direction of the ring. He's paralyzed with fear, something he's never experienced before. 

He doesn't know what's gotten into him when he finds himself sliding down the side of the road, back into the forest.  

 

 

Taeyong can't sleep, not after their fight. His ceiling is covered in plastic glow-in-the-dark stars from years ago, most of them having lost their shine from age. He stares at them, the curves and the contours giving his mind something to think about. 

Of course, it isn't long before his thoughts wander off toward Doyoung. He sits up on his elbows so he can look out his window and into Doyoung's. It's dead in there with no sign of life.  

Maybe Taeyong really struck a chord in him. Did he get home alright? He shouldn't have left the boy there all alone, but he couldn't help it. He needed time to breathe without being surrounded by the scent of Doyoung's vanilla perfume clinging to his skin. 

Regret is a funny thing. It creeps up when you least want it to and makes you do things that contradict whatever you said before. In this case, Taeyong finds himself worrying about the boy even though he said he'd be better off riding solo. 

He shines a flashlight onto the boy's window. He does it once, twice, and again with no response. Taeyong sets the device down with a clatter to pick up the empty, deep cherry box instead. He flips it open with his thumb, letting his eyes adjust to the white silk even through the darkness. 

He sighs loudly before chucking it into the corner of his room, hearing it clang against his turntable before toppling onto the ground. The high school senior flips his pillow around so the cold side is what his face hits first when he plants it in the middle of contained feathers. 

 

 

"You should eat up," Taeyong's mom says. 

She fixes a heart-shaped piece of butter over his pancakes and he cuts it with a knife, smearing it over the dough. It's too early in the morning for love. 

"Mom," Taeyong chokes out between forkfuls of food. "Juice." 

She's rounds the table in no time. Her bustling was always an interesting thing to Taeyong. She was always in a hurry even though it was only for their humble family of three. If anyone saw her frazzled state in town they'd conclude that she had five kids instead of one. 

"Here," she says right as the phone rings.  

"But I asked for juice—" Taeyong says as he stares at the milk sloshing in his cup. 

"Hush," she mouths with a hand over the receiver. She turns her attention back onto the telephone with a voice Taeyong can only attribute to her years of being a housewife, "Hello? Why, Mrs. Kim—" 

The mention of the Kim family triggers Taeyong. His grip on his drink loosens just as he's about to take a sip, sending the glass shattering against the hardwood floor. White liquid is splattered all over the ground and Taeyong bites his lip as he tries his best to avoid his mother's look. 

"—no, no I'm still here. Taeyong just had an accident," she says into the speaker after fixing a hand onto her forehead. She leans against the wall, shoulders pressing into yellow floral wallpaper. "He didn't come home? That's not like him at all, you're right." 

The student's ears perk up at what he assumes is talk of Doyoung. His legs go numb at the thought of last night and how he abandoned the boy. He feels sick. The rest of the conversation can't be heard by Taeyong anymore. 

He tuned out, only left with a nagging buzzing in his ear. He sits, staring at the spilled milk until his vision goes blurry. 

Until, "Were you with Doyoung?" 

And for some reason, maybe by habit, he lies, "No." 

 

 

Taeyong's eyes never leave the tree-filled field on the other side of the road. Just twelve hours earlier Doyoung and he were standing right there, fighting. Doyoung pulled a lot of tantrums in his time, knowing that a princess would get the attention they wanted, but for some reason Taeyong couldn't get that odd look out of his head. It didn't feel like every other time. Something went wrong and Taeyong wanted so badly to push the bad feeling _down_ _down_ _down_. 

Had Doyoung wanted to guilt trip Taeyong into thinking he was missing or ran away, he would have been more spiteful that night. He wouldn't have looked so blank, so lost. He wouldn't have looked heartbroken. It was for this reason that Taeyong knows from experience that Doyoung would have been more of a brat, much meaner, if he wanted to pull on Taeyong's heartstrings.  

It was more of a reason to feel unsettled. 

"—aeyong?" Kun snapped his fingers in front of Taeyong's face, bringing him back to their world. "Hey. You alright?" 

In the time he had spaced out Hansol filled their table with all of their usuals: root beer floats for most of the kids and sloppy, greasy burgers with fries. He was either really good at this new waiter job or Taeyong was out of it for much too long. 

"Did you put extra on—" 

"Extra onions, yeah," Hansol chuckles as he slides into the booth on the edge. He picks up a fry from Jaemin's plate when the boy isn't looking. 

"You gotta lay off the onions, man," Johnny says next to him. 

Yuta nods. "No chick is going to kiss you when you're stuffing yourself with that shit." 

 _Jokes on them_ , Taeyong muses with his hands in his lap. _Won't be kissing anyone for a while_. 

"Language," Kun reminds the group between sips of his bubbling sprite. He winces and Taeyong links it to the boy not being able to handle carbonated gas well. 

Jaehyun snorts and whispers something into Mark's ear that makes the boy go red.  

"Where's Doyoung?" Ten asks. It's an innocent question but it nearly crushes Taeyong. "He never misses out on Sizzle! Saturdays." 

He is elbowed but not without a high-pitched yelp. Johnny pinches his food filled cheek. "You nitwit. Didn't you hear? His mom called everyone asking if anyone saw him. He's missing." 

"Mrs. Kim didn't call my mom," Ten hissed. 

"Your mom doesn't speak English," Kun said. It wasn't meant to berate, and thankfully Ten didn't take it that way. "She told me to tell you. Forgot." 

"Thanks," Ten replies sarcastically. He pushes Johnny to the left, accidentally bumping Taeyong in the process. "You let me get bullied by Thor over here before telling me the big news." 

Kun shrugs, seemingly apologetic. "My cousin came from China this morning. I had an eventful day." 

"Your cousin?" Taeil asked from the other edge. 

"The one that came three years ago. You guys gave him the nickname Winwin," Kun recalls in distaste. 

"Winwin!" Yuta and Jaehyun both say in excited unison.  

"His name is Sicheng, by the way," Kun lectures. "He isn't a candy bar. You can't just give him a name and call it a day." 

"M&Ms, Winwin, same thing. It's a cute nickname," Yuta goes on. He's all smiles until he glances at Taeyong who hasn't even touched his chocolate shake. "Come on, Yong. He'll turn up." 

"What if he doesn't?" Taeyong murmurs.  

The entire table goes quiet. 

"Do you think something bad happened?" Jisung asked in the middle of chewing. 

Taeyong didn't want to look at anyone's faces anymore because it would just tear him up inside. The guilt he felt was festering inside of him like an untamed beast. 

"I don't know," Taeyong says to pacify the youngest. "I don't know." 

His nerves itch and he begins to scratch at his knees through his jeans. Everything is a little too much. It's too hot, too crowded in the diner. The nauseous odor of beef and oil could have brought him to his knees if he wasn't already securely set in the corner of the booth. 

The conversation at the table changed, or Taeyong had stopped paying attention to think it did, and his surroundings faded away. Taeyong started to ponder when he became so blank and thoughtless until it occurred to him: without Doyoung on his mind he was absolutely nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the mystery begins ohohohoho  
> with love,  
> a.p.


	4. ` THREE.

**Chapter Three:**  
_Sweet Little Baby in a World Full of Pain_

It was his fault.

It was his fault.

Doyoung's disappearance was entirely his fault.

If there was one thing Taeyong would never forgive himself for, it would be the moment he decided to leave Doyoung in the dark. Was the moment he abandoned Doyoung as gratifying as he thought? No. Did it liberate him of all his deeply wound feelings for the boy? No. Was it in any way helpful to the development or inevitable crash and burn of their relationship? No.

He was just a foolish teenager throwing a tantrum.

But now, he was a foolish teenager throwing a tantrum, and a witness in a missing persons case.

Well, _fuck_.

"We demand to see Officer Jung," Taeyong hears Johnny say.

"Is that so?" comes a sarcastic tone from the front desk. The lady snaps her gum in her mouth before laughing, "He isn't interested in Boy Scout cookies so why don't you kids run along."

Johnny visibly stiffens and it is obvious that he's upset. Before Taeyong can take over, Yuta pushes the taller male aside. He crosses his arms neatly on the counter before putting on one of his blinding smiles. "We aren't Boy Scouts. We just need to talk to Officer Jung and we'll be on our way."

"No can do," she says coldly.

"We only need a second!" Hansol pipes up.

"Sorry." She twirls a finger around dark permed locks.

"Wow," Yuta forces out a laugh. "Training here must be brutal. Do you always act like a wall or is that just part of your job description?"

The accusation registers in her head immediately and she's on her feet, tongue in her cheek. "Excuse me?"

"Kids," a voice booms from the adjacent hallway.

Everyone, including the receptionist, stills. Officer Jung stands tall, towering over even their lengthiest member. His eyes are sharp at the edges, jawline strong and his body is solid. He's the perfect human with hair swished to the side in a clean wave. Notes of aftershave and musky linen float through the room as he enters. Everything about him screams power, everything about him is the exact opposite of Jaehyun.

Officer Jaehoon Jung is everything that Jaehyun lacks, and more.

"Into my office," Jaehoon grunts out. "Now."

Mouths that were once running nonstop suddenly silence. As if conditioned, they form a single file line, marching into the room in the corner of the building. Taeyong is the last to move. There's something about the man that momentarily paralyzes Taeyong's body, and his feet don't start moving until the man curves an eyebrow at him.

"Not going?" Jaehoon asks.

"Going!" Yuta chuckles cheerfully, tugging on Taeyong's immobile form. "He's going!"

Jaehoon has to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"To whom do I owe the honor?" Officer Jung says passively as he holds the door open for all of them to pile into his office.

"Hyung," Jaehyun finally says. "Why aren't you doing anything? Why isn't anyone trying to find him?"

"You know I can't discuss open cases, Jae," the older male responds as he rounds the corner of his desk. "Have you all eaten yet?"

The room is cramped with all of them inside. The fan in the corner whirs as it moves side to side. The air does nothing to help cool down the kids.  
It barely reaches the other wall, the coolness just slightly grazing Jaehyun's outstretched hand.

"So you're just going to let this kidnapper get away with it?" Ten asks.

"Who knows what will happen to Doyoung," Johnny adds.

"Or what has already happened," Kun suggests.

"Guys," the officer starts. "We don't even know if he's been abducted. He could have just wandered off on his own. It's a fairly new case--"

"Three days," Taeyong says. The break in his silence has heads turning. His voice cracks, as if crumbling under the weight of his own never-ending guilt. "It's been three days since he was reported missing."

Jaehoon rests his elbows on the top of his desk, long fingers crossing over one another in a tight clasp. His chin, speckled with two-day old stubble, settles on top of his knuckles. No one knows where to look. Everywhere but the floor seems inappropriate for some reason.

There's something in Jaehoon's sigh that Taeyong doesn't like, and he's only more inclined to doubt the man when a short, "We're working on it," falls out of chapped lips.

The children are all escorted out of the humid room just as fast as they entered it.

"Remember," Jaehoon says. His tone is authoritive, and not in the least friendly, "Butt out. Let the police do their job. I don't need another one of you guys going missing."

The door shuts and locks behind them with a deafening snap.

"No offense," Johnny says as he walks past Jaehyun, nudging him. Offense is taken. "But your brother is a total dirtbag."

 

 

"I mean honestly, it isn't like they have any big things to work on," Yuta complains.

"Unless Mark's mom loses her pussy again," calls out Ten.

"Pussycat," Kun corrects.

"What's a pussy?" Jisung yells from across the swingset.

Mark pales. "Nothing!"

Taeyong watches from his spot under the big oak tree. He draws circles into the brittle patch of dried up dirt in front of his feet. The stick catches on a root, and he breaks it, only to have his twig snap in half along with it. It flies.

The motion brings him back to that night: the way he flung that ring into the woods, and the way Doyoung probably went back down to get it. He feels sick at the thought.

"--aeyong?"

Taeyong's head lifts. "Yeah?"

Yuta, who is usually all smiles, has his eyebrows knitted together. He plops down next to him, back leaning against the bark of the tree trunk. They share a moment, watching all of their friends mess around on the worn down playground. Johnny was chasing Renjun around with a worm he had just dug up from the Earth, and Taeil was giving piggyback rides to Jaemin and Chenle. They all seemed so happy.

"I know you're beating yourself up about it, but there was nothing you could do," Yuta finally says. "It's not like you were ther--"

"But I was," Taeyong half-laughs. He can already feel his throat choking up. "I was there. I left him there."

Yuta's mouth opens but it shakes a little. Taeyong looks at him and turns away. He smiles and it's full of complete sorrow and regret. He doesn't know what to do, not with this new information and with all these holes that needed to be filled concerning the missing boy, but he wraps one arm behind Taeyong and holds him.

"We'll find him," Yuta promises. "He couldn't have gone far."

Taeyong wants to object. How in the world could a bunch of kids go out and find someone? It's a daunting task. It was completely, utterly out of their means. They were only high schoolers, half of them still in middle school. How would they find Doyoung? He wants to tell Yuta to not make promises he can't keep, he wants to tell him that it isn't cool to say things he can't follow through with.

But most of all, he wants to tell Yuta that he's scared.

He's scared that if they start the mission then they might fail.

He wants to say that maybe it's better to wait on the police, to wait on the big guys to figure out the case.

He wants to say that if they were to never find Doyoung, he would at least be able to sleep at night for an hour.

Because then, at least they wouldn't know if he was dead.

Before he can say any of it, Donghyuck's yelling breaks his reverie, "Come on guys, we're starting!"

 

 

It was only after three rounds of Red Rover, Red Rover and a few more games of Tag that they were all finally tuckered out enough to go home. Taeyong gave Yuta a ride on the back of his bike, giving him a pitiful wave before peddling next door to his own home. His bike is quickly forgotten in the driveway and he pushes past his father's car in the garage before walking in through the door.

His house smells like a mix of laundry detergent and pot roast. His stomach churns.

"Taeyong?" his mother calls from the kitchen. "Is that you?"

"It's me," he answers back in the middle of toeing off his sneakers. They're mucked with mud, so he hides them between the washer and dryer so she doesn't yell up a storm.

"There you are," she whines. She's plating the food and cleaning up the dining room all at the same time. "I thought you were going to miss dinner today."

"I'm going to take a shower."

"Are you sure? Your food will get cold."

Taeyong sighs, "I stink."

"Alright, go on," she sighs back.

Silverware clinks together. He's about to run up the stairs before he hears his mother again, "Oh, Taeyong?"

"What is it?" He's got one foot on the step, and another hanging in midair.

"Have you heard anything about Doyoung?"

His heart drops, and so does his foot, loudly. His eyes close automatically, rolling back into his head. He was getting irritated. Was there not one second of the day that he could stop being reminded of the boy? Was he really going to be punished like this?

"I don't know!" Taeyong rushes out angrily, "Stop asking me."

He knows he's being chased by her, but he doesn't care. His legs bring him right into his bedroom and he shuts the door promptly, right on her face. She knocks. She knocks again. She's saying something but he can barely hear her over the radio he just turned on. He sheds himself of his shirt, balling it up in his hands before chucking it against the wall so it falls flat into his hamper. That's when he sees it.

Light.

It flickers in Doyoung's room. Taeyong can't believe it, but he can all at the same time. He clambers to the wall that his window resides on, just centimeters away from pressing his entire face against it. From his view into Doyoung's room, he can only register the darkness. That is, until it happens again: the obvious flash of light.

It's bright, blindingly so. It is as if the entire sun -- that had already been replaced with the moon two hours ago -- was there, shining. It dies down completely in what could only be measured as a second.

" _Doyoung_ ," Taeyong hears himself whisper.

 

 

"This is a bad idea," Renjun says as he grips onto Chenle's hand. "This is a _bad_ , bad idea."

"Take a chill pill," Donghyuck slurs out. He has a grimy smile on as he wiggles his fingers in front of the pairing. "Or else... Yoon Sanha will hear you and eat you up!"

"Come on, Renjun," Taeil says. "Even Jisung isn't scared. Isn't that right, Jisung?"

Jisung, obviously covering his eyes while his other hand grips the belt loop of his older brother leading him, nods confidently. "Totally!"

"See?" Taeil chuckles.

"Still," Jaehyun asks warily, "Do you think we should be out here?"

"Dunno," Johnny says. He turns to face Jaehyun, and his expression is taunting. "Why? Need to ask your brother for permission?"

Jaehyun scoffs. "Oh, shut up."

They push each other around, elbows and legs and feet going every which way. Kun ignores them, trailing past the chicken fight to take the lead. Even with all their flashlights on, the forest is too dark. The trail is anything but dangerous: flat, leaf covered land is the basis, with remnants of secluded teenage parties all around. There are beer cans and empty boxes and ripped streamers everywhere. Up ahead, there lies a pile of cans of all types in a neat mound against a tree. Kun kicks one of the cans aside. He's starting to think that maybe Doyoung isn't missing in these woods, but rather, having fun. The thought, although quite grave, has him chuckling.

"What's so funny?" Taeyong shoots.

"Nothing," Kun clears up with a cough. "By the way, what are we even looking for?"

Taeyong's flashlight zips all over the muddy ground. "Clues. If we're lucky, Doyoung."

"...What were you guys even doing out here, anyway?"

"...I--"

There's a shrill scream that comes from behind them. It makes their hearts go cold in the barrier of their chests. As they both whip around, they see Jisung's entire foot engulfed in a hole filled with what looks like a combination of mud and quicksand. He's sinking. Fast.

Taeyong drops his flashlight and his feet move quickly. He can't afford to have another one of his friends go under his watch. With all the boys yelling commands and running all over, Taeyong grips onto both of the boy's wrists and yanks. It releases him for just a moment, but then he's back where he started, and maybe an inch deeper.

"Guys! Help!" Taeyong demands. "Two of you, pull from him out from his belt. Someone, pull me from the back, hurry!"

In the middle of all the chaos, his words are the only ones anyone can hear. They follow through, all of them moving backwards, as far from the sinkhole as possible. It works, with Jisung's foot slipping from his shoe, and then entire cast of boys falling onto their backs when the youngest is released.

"Holy shi--"

And in that moment, all the flashlights go black.

"This isn't funny," Mark says nervously.

Ten bangs two of the devices against the floor. "They aren't turning on..."

"What the hell is going on?" Comes Hansol.

"I'm scared, hyung," Donghyuck mutters next to Taeyong.

Taeyong doesn't know how to react. His blood is still pumping from adrenaline and his emotions are all over the place, ranging from intense relief but also seeping into pure fear. The air that was once crisp from summer, turns sickenly sweet.

"Hyung..." Chenle speaks nervously.

"It smells like--"

"Vanilla." Yuta says into the darkness.

Taeyong's head spins. The scent he thought he would have to wait years to smell again was intoxicating his mind once more. Doyoung. Somehow, he was there with them. It was too dark to see anything. Even the moon couldn't be seen through the roof of trees. He was shaking, he didn't know what to do.

Then, tussling could be heard.

It was soft, but every sound was distinctly heard. Metal on metal.

Light.

In unison, every single flashlight turned on. The glow was immaculate. They were stacked up cleanly against the tree with all the beer cans, pointed towards the large group of children. Taeyong shuffled backward, having the wind knocked out of him from pure shock. Everything seemed to still.

Everyone was running, aside from Taeyong.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Yuta shouted into Taeyong's ear, motioning for Mark to help pick the older male up from the ground. "Come on!"

And they ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: hello.......it me........... i really missed this fic ( plus im getting autumn vibes and this is when i come alive ) so i thought i'd give a little update!! pls enjoy and tell me what ur favorite part is!!! it really helps fuel my creativity :")))
> 
> with love,  
> a.p.

**Author's Note:**

> X-posted on AFF under the same username. Loosely based off of the Netflix series "Stranger Things". This will be over 20 chapters.  
> Twitter: @doyoungified  
> Tumblr: @onyourmarklee


End file.
